The Force of Pain
by Troypayisbetter
Summary: He had never been good with his emotions. This time, they went too far.


**I don't own anything at all. Which is so sad. **

The Force of Pain

They had stopped at a gas station half an hour ago; a gas station that to Sam looked like something out of a bad Stephen King book. The two plate glass windows out front were grimy and dirt covered, and from what he could tell when Jane had entered, made the store unnaturally dark despite the long procession of fluorescents down the middle. The red paint on the store was cracked, peeling, and faded out, and the letterings were so weathered that he doubted anyone would be able to read them—even John and Six with their remarkable powers.

The dirt underneath his feet was a deep golden brown, which swirled into columns as it was swept down the road by the wind. Sighing, he leaned against his step-fathers truck, his eyes closed, focusing on the rays of sunlight soaking through his skin. It felt great to be so warm and this desert brought back so many memories of trips with his father, alone together finally only once every year for their hunt for extraterrestrials. He choked back the lump in his throat, and opened his eyes to survey his surroundings again.

The sun was a ball of angry flame, pounding the Earth with its heat. It had almost set behind the purple mountains across the desert plain, and Sam took a moment to survey the craggy rocks. The sky above was a deep pink, fading into a navy and then into indigo as it passed over his head. The beginnings of stars were forming, twinkling merrily down at them, despite the predicament they all were currently in.

There was a few patches of long grass out toward the middle of the plain, closer to the mountains and a lone log cabin, whose chimney was spouting thick black smoke already and the heavy purple clouds dispersed across the sky showed that the much needed rain wasn't coming any time soon.

The dog lay curled on the front seat, snoring lightly in the shade of the car. Their bond had been rocky, since it had almost crushed him with its tail back at the High School. But after nights of comfort, when after darkness had fallen and everyone else was asleep except for him the dog after sensing his uneasiness would come and lay by him, their friendship had grown and now when he drove—which he did often while John studied his father's maps, the dog sat in his lap, panting happily while the cool wind blew across their faces.

Six was waiting for the gas to finish filling her motorcycles tank, sitting on the hood of his truck sketching the desert with broken acrylics. Her softly curled hair and the shadows adorning the left side of her face made her look even more beautiful tonight, and he sighed again before turning back to look at John. He was making his way over, the t-shirt clinging to his hardened muscles, and Sam had to swallow again before he could get himself under control. Leaning next to him, Sam took in his musky scent, and smiled, turning toward his friend.

"It's beautiful…isn't it?" His own voice sounded distant and slightly strained, and he kicked himself. He didn't like showing his emotions.

"Yeah…it is." He grinned, concern flashing in his eyes when he saw the strained look on his face. "Are you ok?"

He shook his head in warning, glancing to Six before motioning him to take a walk with him. Nodding, John signaled to Six that he'd be back, probably using his telepathy, before turning and following him toward the back of the station.

They walked in silence, turning a dusty corner before making their way toward a set of truck tires piled haphazardly in the middle of the yard. He sat in silence for a while, leaning on one of these before laying back and staring at the stars.

"Are you ok?" John repeated, concern lacing his words.

He sent a strained smile. "Yeah…yeah. It just reminds me…of crossing through the desert with my dad…on our trips and shit."

"It's not shit Sam."

He nodded, his eyes dancing from star to star. "I know."

They sat in silence again, before he turned and stared at him. This attraction was building inside of him, and it was only getting worse. He needed to tell John. Taking a deep breath, he readied himself. "Sometimes…I wish you never met Sarah. Sometimes…I wished Six never showed up and it was just you and me and the dog again."

"Why? You never had a problem with Sarah…with Mike sure but never Sarah. And…you and number Six looked quite cozy last night when I walked in on you two making out."

Sam blushed. That had been one of the best nights of his short, anguished filled life. "I do. Six and I…there's a connection I don't feel with anyone else…except for you."

"Me?" He looked confused.

"Yeah. I trust you. More than I probably should. And I feel safer with you too…it's…hard to explain."

He looked quizzical. "You don't feel like this with Six?"

"I…it's hard to explain. I do…but it's not as strong as with you. And I don't know what to call it. It could be me trying to grab onto someone who could right this imbalance of not having a real father for so long. It could be me and my nerves. Or…it could be puppy love…or actual love or…"

His eyes were steely now. "Sam. You're my best friend. But you need to stop. Now." He ground out, and it made his blood run cold and he lowered his gaze. "I love Sarah. And you know that once we fall in love its permanent. And Six loves you too. You may not be able to see it. You may be trying NOT to see it. But she is…and you care for her too I can tell from our last encounter with the Mogadorians. You saved her. Plus, if you can take a look back at what happened last night."

"I know…it's just these feelings are so strong and I—"

"Sam. I care about you. But I'm sorry. These feelings are not real. And they will never be realized. I'm going to forget this now. This conversation never changed our friendship. Common. Let me help you up."

John

It all happened so fast. He felt Sam's lips connect with his own and the all too familiar feeling of warmth in his palms told him what was happening. But he was too angry and his mind went black and suddenly Sam's lips were gone from his own and there was a loud crash.

Whipping his head up, he saw the whole in the wall, and the creaking, swaying motion of the building. Six was screaming out front, possibly in fear, more likely in pain. He knew that pain. When Sarah had been caught in that fire, her anguish and terror had been transferred to him. He could hear Bernie barking up a storm, and the door out front being wrenched open, the hick inside screaming and cursing as he exited.

Throwing himself toward the hole, he jumped inside, his head whipping from side to side. "Sam!" He heard a cough and turned, his face paling and his stomach twisting. There was Sam, his face covered in cuts and his clothes torn from going through the aluminum wall. But worse, he had a piece of a shelf sticking out from his side, and a pool of blood was already forming around him.

"Sam! Sam…oh god…I didn't…" he trailed off, picking up Sam's head and putting it into his lap, cradling him.

Sam coughed blood, his eyes swimming. "I'm sorry…so sorry John. I didn't…mean to hurt you." His eyes closed a fraction of a second, and outside again he heard Six scream.

"Sam! Stay with me pal. I'll fix you…I'll fix you." But when he outstretched his palms and tried to fill him with his light, nothing happened. His nerves were too frayed and haywired.

"John…please…forgive me. Save…save my father? Please?" his voice filled with pain.

John nodded, his eyes swimming with tears. Thunder rolled across the sky and the light faded quickly as the wind picked up. "There's nothing to forgive…Sam…stay with me! You're my best friend. I'm NOT losing someone else."

Sam looked up at him, a tear escaping and his breath coming in gasps. "I would have stayed with you till the end."

"SAM! You are too GOOD to die in this shit hole." He was breathing heavily, and he tried again to fix him. Nothing happened again.

"Good luck John…tell Six…" he gave a heaving gasp and fell silent in his arms.

"No!" He screamed, fisting his hair as tears fell down his face, splashing helplessly onto Sam's face.

Sam was dead. And John felt more alone than ever before.

**Well…there you go. I thought of this while watching I am Number 4 last night. Great movie. And Sam was my favorite. Thanks again. Review!**


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